Nightwatch
by jane0904
Summary: In the Mal/Freya 'verse, following on from HOPE, the next few chapters are little character pieces before the next big story arc. Enjoy, and please review. Final chapter uploaded seperately as NC-17.
1. Nightwatch

"Everything okay?" Mal asked, sticking his head into the bridge.

"Shiny, sir." Zoe stood up, preparing to hand over the watch.

Since their almost encounter with the Blue Hands back on Corvus, Mal had insisted on a rotating watch, just to make sure they weren't in danger of being followed. It had been a week, and the only thing showing on their sensors was a derelict slowly meandering down to a fiery death in the atmosphere of an unnamed moon that had chlorine for air.

In his capacity as captain Mal had decided to take the first of the long watches, from 10 pm to 4 am, at least giving the married and not-so-married members of his crew a chance for some time together, totally ignoring the fact that he too was married. As had been pointed out to him by his first mate.

"We'll see how it goes," he said. "Week, maybe two, and we can look again."

"You think we're going to be in that much danger of being followed?"

"Better safe than sorry."

She'd given him one of her looks, he'd grinned at her, and they'd done as he ordered. She had to admit it at least gave her some uninterrupted time with Hank and Ben, but she still felt a little guilty. And now it looked as if it might just be coming back to bite her, as Mal didn't sit down immediately.

"So. Zoe."

"Sir."

"You and Hank. Doing okay?"

"Fine, sir."

"And little Ben."

"You saw him at supper, sir."

He smiled. "Zoe, you ever gonna just call me Mal?"

"On your deathbed, sir."

"That soon." He stood contemplating her for a moment.

"Is there something else?" she asked, gazing back.

"Zoe, why don't you take a seat."

"I've been sitting."

"Then sit again."

"If you're going to fire me, I'd rather stand."

"Not gonna fire you. Wouldn't dare. You know all my secrets."

"I'm sure there are a few I don't."

"Nothing major."

Zoe nodded. "Good to know."

"Zoe, sit."

With a heavy sigh she did as she was told, lowering herself slowly into the co-pilot's seat. Mal took the other. He looked at her, his blue eyes darker in the low light.

"What, sir?"

He began slowly. "You know, marriage is a great institution. Gives you stability, something to lean on, someone to talk to in your old age …"

"I thought we already had this conversation."

"Maybe we have. Only you don't seem to have done anything about it."

"Sir, with all due respect, it's nothing to do with you."

"Respect or not, that man wants you to marry him."

"Maybe he does, but that isn't any of your concern."

"Zoe, he wants to _marry_ you!"

She looked at him, her face devoid of expression. "You ordered me not to marry Wash. Now you're ordering me to marry Hank?"

"Not ordering. Suggesting. In a firm but fair fashion."

"There's a difference?"

"Kinda hoped so. 'Specially since you didn't follow my order about Wash."

"So it was an order."

"Sure. Never did think he was good enough for you. Not at first."

"And later?"

"Maybe … maybe he kinda grew on me," Mal admitted.

"I'm so pleased."

Mal sighed at her dry tone. "Zoe, you know why I'm saying this." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

"Captain, I am happy. I have a man who loves me, and a baby. I don't see that a wedding band is going to make any difference to that."

"It does."

"Don't see how, sir."

"Zoe, I waited a long time to get Freya to marry me."

"Well, the first eight or nine years weren't exactly her fault," Zoe pointed out.

"No, no, okay. I'll concede that. But _after_ that it still took a while. I was like you … really didn't think it would make that much difference, that she was mine no matter we didn't have a piece of paper saying that. Only I was wrong. Zo, waking up next to her, knowing she's carrying my name, gives me such a … a thrill. Still does. Always will, I guess."

"Sir, I do know what it's like to be married. And I know what you mean. I felt the same way about Wash."

"But not about Hank?"

"About him too."

"Then why –"

"Because it doesn't stop them tearing your heart out."

Mal stared at her then nodded. "No, it don't. But even if I knew she was gonna do that tomorrow, I'd still marry her again today."

"I know." Her voice gentled.

"You love him. Like you said, you've got a baby. You're a family. And he loves you so much he'd walk into the air intake if you told him to. Granted he'd probably be complaining the whole way, but he'd still go."

"In a way that scares me."

"You think Wash wouldn't have done the same?"

"I know he would. That's why I'm afraid."

"Zoe, I can't promise he ain't gonna end up dead, 'cause everyone does eventually, one way or another. But I'll try not to let it happen too soon. How's that?"

"I don't need you to promise. He's already done that."

Mal smiled. "So this is a moot conversation?"

"No. I haven't actually said yes, yet."

"Then I guess the question is … are you two gonna be together forever?"

"Forever, sir?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Or part thereof."

She smiled at last. "I think we are."

"Then marry the poor slob! Put me out of my misery and get a ring on your finger!"

She gazed at him for a long while, and he wondered what exactly was going on in her brain. He'd long ago given up wondering what she thought, preferring to wait and see what little she'd tell him. But right now he wished he was as psychic as Freya.

"Perhaps." She stood up. "I'm going to bed, if that's all right."

Mal sighed. "Not gonna be able to make you, am I?"

"No. It's not your life. Nor your decision. You might be captain, but I didn't obey your orders before." She tempered her words with a smile. "Let me deal with this in my own time."

He laughed a little. "Fine. You deal. Just don't expect me to not bring it up once in a while."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir." She walked off the bridge, her head high. At the bottom of the stairs she paused, though. "Sir, it's not … Hetter who's made you –"

"No!" Mal was adamant. "Hell, Zo, you could have a hundred kids hanging on your skirts and no ring before I'd take notice of that _hwoon dahn_. That is, if you wore skirts."

"I'm sure I could find one if you wanted. Perhaps I could borrow one of yours."

"Now that's just unkind," Mal complained.

Zoe smiled to herself and headed back towards her bunk.

Freya heard the hatch close, but didn't hurry. She finished putting the clean laundry away, sat with Ethan a while to make sure he wasn't likely to wake, then slowly climbed the ladder into the corridor. Glancing towards the darkened galley she let her consciousness roam just enough so she could tell everyone else was either asleep or getting passionate - and in one rather disturbing case, both - and walked towards the bridge.

Mal was sitting in the pilot's chair, staring out at the stars.

"Didn't listen to you, huh?" she said, gently, closing and locking the door.

"Nope. Surely do have a mutinous crew." He didn't turn, his eyes fixed on a reddish star almost dead centre of the window.

She leaned down behind him and put her arms around his shoulders. He gripped her hands.

"You know Zoe will marry him in good time. She's used to having him around now."

"Shipboard romances," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Are they so bad?"

She felt his chuckle deep in his chest. "Maybe sometimes they're okay."

"Only sometimes."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her around into his lap before hooking her arms over his head again. "Occasionally it does seem to work."

"I hope you're counting us in that."

"I do."

"I'm not too heavy for you, am I?"

He tightened his grip around her waist. "Tell you if you are."

"I mean, I could get fat. And with the baby and all …"

His lips lifted as he glanced down to her belly. "Fat, thin or anything in between, you're my wife. And I love you."

"Good," she smiled, leaning over to kiss him, feeling evidence of that love growing under her.

In the week since their almost encounter with the Blue Hands on Corvus, Mal had insisted on someone staying on the bridge at all times, and he himself had taken the 10 pm to 4 am slot. Of course, he hadn't said at any point that he was going to spend that time alone …


	2. Mice

"Kaylee, what the good gorram is going on?" Mal called, heading towards the engine room.

The mechanic turned as he stomped through the door, little baby Hope in her arms. "Cap'n?"

"All the yellin' and cryin'." He nodded towards the baby. "Her."

Kaylee looked down at Hope, her little face screwed up, her lungs working to full capacity as she cried.

"It ain't her fault," she said over the noise. "She didn't start it. Ben's been bawling himself into a seizure since yesterday."

"You think I don't know that?" Mal's face was angry. "Kept me and Frey awake all last night with his noise, _and_ started Ethan off too!"

Kaylee jiggled the little girl. "I thought coming in here might calm her down, seeing as Bethie always liked the engine, but you can still hear Ben." She lifted her head. Yes, there it was, another baby crying in almost perfect synchronisation with the one in her arms.

"Can't you quiet her some?"

She shot him a glare. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Try harder." He stomped back towards the galley.

"It ain't my fault!" she called. "If anyone it's Zoe's."

"Yeah, but you ain't as likely to shoot me."

"Don't tempt me," she muttered, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Shh, shh, Hope, or the Cap's likely to do himself a mischief."

The baby didn't listen.

-x-

"Zoe, what the hell's going on with that baby?" Mal asked, leaning down over the hatch.

"Mal?" Hank looked up at him, a squalling baby in his arms.

"Where's Zoe?"

"Gone to the shuttle to get some sleep."

Mal climbed down the ladder. "Sleep?"

"You might have noticed Ben's been a little … fractious." He was doing the same jiggling motion as Kaylee, and it was starting to make Mal feel seasick. "She needed to get some rest."

"A little. He's been at this twenty-four hours straight!"

"No need to exaggerate, Mal. Maybe twenty. He fell asleep for a while yesterday evening."

"And then started again. We've got a job to do in two days time, and if we don't get some sleep someone's likely to get shot. And it might not be work related."

"Mal, that ain't nice," Hank complained.

"Don't feel like being nice. I feel like getting a decent night's sleep. Any chance of that?"

"Well if I knew what the problem was then maybe I'd join you!" Hank's temper was obviously frayed, and it wasn't going to take much to snap it entirely.

"That baby never made a peep until now. What've you done to him?"

"Done? I've done nothing, Mal!" That was it. "I've fed him, changed him, burped him, changed him again … I even took him to Simon to find out if it was anything I should get really worried about, and he's still crying!" He held out his son. "You gorram try something!"

Mal glared at him then took the little boy, holding him like he used to Ethan. He looked down, his face softening just a little. "Hey, there, feller," he said, trying the soothing tone that worked with his own son. "You don't wanna be doing this. There's nothing to be crying about, now, you hear?"

Ben did hear, and apparently didn't agree. If anything the crying got louder.

"Well that seems to have worked well," Hank said sarcastically.

"It's the squeak."

Both men turned suddenly. Bethany was hanging upside down on the ladder, her little face serious.

"The what?" Mal asked.

"The squeak. He doesn't like it."

"Bethie, you come down from there before you fall down, and you tell me exactly what you mean."

The little girl did as she was told, righting herself by the simple expedient of unhooking her feet and letting her body rotate on her hands. Mal winced.

"The squeak," she explained, stepping off the ladder and going over to Ben's crib. "It keeps him awake." She pointed to the bulkhead. "Mice."

"There's no mice on board my boat."

"He hears them."

"We don't have mice!"

Bethany just looked at him.

"Oh …" Mal wanted to swear, but not in front of the two squirts, so he contented himself with passing Ben back to his father and heading for the com. "Kaylee!" he yelled down it.

"Don't have to shout." The young mechanic sounded aggrieved. "Nor use the com if you're gonna."

"Get to Hank and Zoe's bunk. And bring your tools."

-x-

Kaylee lay on her side, undoing the bolts on that section of bulkhead, being watched closely by Hank holding Ben, Mal holding Hope, and Bethany, and at least two of them were still screaming their heads off.

"That's the one, Momma," the little girl said over the noise.

"Well, I'm inclined to agree with the Cap'n," Kaylee said. "We ain't got mice."

"What's going on down there?" Jayne called down the open hatch. "Enough noise to wake the gorram dead."

"Ben thinks he can hear a squeak," Hank explained.

"A squeak?"

"Mice," Bethany explained.

"We ain't got mice." Mal was getting tired of this.

"Knew a feller once had a ship, got rats the size of Fiddler. Ate right through the insulation on the controls."

"What happened to him?" Hank asked, getting a glare from Mal for encouraging the mercenary.

"Crashed. Mind you, coulda been 'cause they were carrying a hold full o' whisky and the pilot liked the odd nip or two."

"Jayne, you're not helping," Mal said tightly.

"Just trying to cheer you up."

"You want to cheer us up, suggest something sensible."

Jayne's advice was simple and straightforward. "Get a cat." They could hear his feet ambling towards the galley.

Bethany's eyes widened and she looked round at Mal.

"No," he said quickly.

She sighed and went back to watching her mother, her shoulders the picture of dejection.

"Soon be there," Kaylee said, undoing the last bolt.

Hank was thinking. He looked at Bethany. "So if Ben said we had mice –"

"We don't have mice!"

The pilot ignored his captain. "– does that mean he was talking to you?"

The little girl shook her head. "Not talking. Feelings."

"You been peeking?"

"He's a baby. He needs to be looked after." She glanced at Mal. "Like Ethan."

Mal felt his heart skip a beat. "You watch 'em all?" he asked.

"All," Bethany agreed, then went back to studying her mother as she lifted the plate from the wall. "To be safe."

"Thanks," Mal said softly.

"You're welcome."

"So, you find any evidence of these non-existent rodents?" Mal asked in his normal tone, overlaid with just a hint of asperity.

"No. There's this …" She held out a toy dinosaur, dusty from its long incarceration. Mal leaned over and took it from her. "But no mice."

"Didn't think there would be. Anything else that might be squeaking?"

Kaylee ferreted around in the gap. "Nope, nothing that I can see."

"Well, better put my ship back together and we're gonna have to think again." He looked at Ben in Hank's arms. "Doesn't he ever stop to breathe?"

"Guess not, Mal," Hank admitted. "Maybe he can take it in someplace else."

"Hate to think where."

Kaylee began to lift the plate back into place, but stopped as River's voice wafted down to them.

"Wait a minute."

The psychic descended the ladder, her bare feet curling around the rungs. As she got further down it was apparent she was only holding on with one hand.

"What is it?" Mal asked.

"Here," River said, holding out something white.

Kaylee took it, examining it as it sat on the palm of her hand. "Wow."

"I think I second that," Hank said.

"You did this?" Mal asked.

"It seemed like a good idea."

There, in perfect detail, was a superbly rendered Origami cat, with two emerald green dots for eyes. It was poised, just as if about to pounce on any unwary small, fluffy, squeaky thing.

"It goes into the wall," Bethany said. "Scares the mice away."

"There aren't any mice, sweetie," Kaylee said, still mesmerised by the tiny creature.

"You know, I don't think I care," Mal said. "Go ahead."

Kaylee glanced at him, her forehead creased, but carefully, almost reverentially, placed the cat into the gap. Then she lifted the plate and began replacing the bolts.

"Kaylee," Mal called softly.

"What?"

"Listen."

"Don't hear anything."

"Exactly."

Her socket wrench in her hand, she looked round. Both Ben and Hope were quiet, starting to doze.

"But that's –"

"Yeah."

"Hey, don't knock it," Hank said quickly. "Just be thankful."

"Oh, I am."

Mal spoke to River. "So how did that work?"

"Maybe there _were_ mice," the young woman said. "Ghosts. Or they are mice in potentia."

"What?"

"Future mice. And Ben can hear the squeaking from here in the past."

Mal didn't even try to understand. "So how come the dinosaur didn't scare them off, then?"

River looked at him pityingly. "Because there weren't any mice _now_," she said.

Mal gave her one of his looks in return, but she kept staring at him coolly. "Seems kind of a pity for such a work of art to be locked in a wall, though."

"It was necessary," she said. "But I made another one for you."

"A cat?"

"No. A horse. He's called Casmir. He's on your bed." She climbed the ladder.

"I'm gonna start locking my bunk," he called after her.

"It won't help," came her voice drifting back.


	3. Relief

It had been a good meal, one of Kaylee's best, with more than a little help from Simon. He was learning fast, and seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Least it means one less meal of Frey's," Jayne said. "Or worse, Mal's."

Having been duly chastised, the unrepentant mercenary grinned and got out his toothpick.

Mal, slightly nauseated tonight by the likelihood of the big man cleaning all the crevices in his teeth, got up from the table and headed for his bunk with the aim of relieving the growing need to … relieve himself. Climbing down the ladder, he pulled the toilet open and began to unbutton his pants.

Someone was watching.

He stopped, three buttons in, and turned slowly towards the open nursery door.

Ethan was gazing at him, his eyes wide, little hands twisting the tail of his pyjamas, his favourites, the ones with the dinosaurs all over them that had been a present from Zoe.

"Hey, there, big feller," Mal said, smiling. "Why ain't you in bed asleep?"

"Daddy pee?"

Mal glanced down, making sure he wasn't likely to lose his pants, and then grinned. "Come on, back to bed," he said, reaching down to pick up his son. "Before your Momma catches you."

Ethan moved back, away from him into the nursery. "Daddy pee?"

"Well, I kinda figure that's between me and the toilet bowl, don't you?" Mal leaned on the door jamb.

"Ethan pee too." With a determined look on his face, the little boy picked up a toy stool from the corner next to his bed and carried it, his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth, into the other room, putting it down next to the toilet. Then, very carefully, holding onto the drawer unit, he climbed up. He looked over his shoulder. "Daddy show."

Mal came back to him, going down onto his heels so he could look into Ethan's face. "You know you've got a … a potty, don't you."

Ethan shook his head. "Baby potty."

"Well, yeah, I can't exactly argue with that. And you're more'n a year old now, I see that too. But it's still okay to use it."

"Daddy show."

Mal wasn't getting anywhere. "How about you sit on the toilet? I can hold you, make sure you don't fall in. Wouldn't want to flush you into the septic vat. Have to make Uncle Jayne go and fish you out." He mimed a fishing rod, and reeling him in.

Ethan chuckled, but wasn't going to be put off. "Daddy show. Ethan pee."

Mal looked down at his son, seeing the determination in his small features, the certainty in the familiar blue eyes that Daddy would come through, would do as he was told. He sighed. "Okay. But you make a mess, you get to clean it up."

"No mess," Ethan said, grinning widely, knowing he'd won.

Shaking his head, Mal stood up, and began undoing the rest of the buttons on his pants. Ethan, with no buttons to deal with on his pyjamas, watched closely.

"See, there's things like aiming you have to keep in mind," Mal said, trying to keep from blushing. "You don't aim, and it goes everywhere. Then Momma won't be happy. Remember that whole clean it up thing. Worse, I think she might make _me_ clean it up." He opened his fly and reached inside. "Gotta make sure you don't get your clothes wet either."

Ethan nodded, pulling his pyjama bottoms down. The dinosaurs ended up around his ankles. Mal kept a close eye on him, making sure he was firm enough not to fall off his little stool.

"Now, not too hard, else it impedes the flow. Just … lightly, and aim towards the back of the bowl."

"Daddy?"

"That's good. And keep an eye on it, otherwise you might not know when you're gonna finish, and that can be …"

"Messy."

"Exactly." There was a pause only broken by the sound of liquid falling. "Finished?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Shake – gently – and put yourself away again." Mal did up his own buttons then helped his son pull his pyjamas back into place before kicking the toilet closed and hearing it flush. "Now we wash our hands, _dong mah_? 'Cause your Momma tells me off about that when I forget."

Ethan nodded, watching as Mal pulled out the small sink and let a trickle of water flow. He leaned forward and put his hands underneath as Mal rubbed them between his own. So small. Mal couldn't help the shiver that ran through him as he felt his son's soft hands between his callused fingers. How the hell could something so perfect be related to him? Must be more of Freya in there than he realised.

Suddenly he blinked as Ethan clapped his hands and water splashed into his eyes.

"Hey!" he complained.

The little boy laughed. "Daddy play," he said, doing it again.

Mal couldn't be mad, not when he was having such a pure bonding session, as Frey called it. With a grin he flicked water at his son. Within a few moments the front of Mal's shirt was wet, and so were Ethan's pyjamas.

"Messy," Ethan grinned, looking down.

"Sure is." Mal shook his head, taking the towel from the hook and wiping up as best he could. "Better get you into a dry pair before your Momma sees and I get grounded for a month." He swung his son up onto his hip. "It's still okay to sit down, you know," he added.

"Ethan pee like Daddy."

"Yeah." He grinned, his chest just a little tighter. "I guess that's okay too."

"Story?"

"Well, you've already had one tonight …"

"Daddy story." This time it wasn't a request, but Ethan's blue eyes were twinkling.

"You ain't gonna get around me like that for the rest of your life," Mal warned, then realised he was probably lying. "One story." He carried him through to the nursery, setting him down on the bed before opening a drawer and taking out a spare set of pyjamas. "Which one?"

"Three Bears." Ethan swung his legs.

Mal smiled as he undid the buttons on the wet pyjama top. "Okay. Once upon a time, there were three bears, Momma Bear, Daddy Bear and Baby Bear. And they all lived together in a little house in the middle of a wood. And Momma Bear was so very pretty, and loved Daddy Bear even when he did crazy things like going off with Uncle Bear to steal stuff and get himself a little wounded. And they both loved Baby Bear, even when he was all wet and wriggly." Mal grinned and tickled his very own Baby Bear, making him giggle and squirm.

Up in the corridor above the open hatch Freya slid down the bulkhead so she could listen to the story, and sighed happily at the pride in Mal's voice. Her lips curved in anticipation. And pretty soon Daddy Bear was going to find out just how proud Momma Bear was of him, too.


End file.
